Be Curious

“As I started looking, I found more and more.” -- Valerie Steele

On a breezy evening that threatened rain, but offered amazing cloud formations and lighting, I attended my daughter’s graduation from high school. A monumental event for all, and one that arrived more quickly than a parent could possibly imagine. We braced ourselves for a potentially boring evening as nearly 400 graduates streamed into the stadium, paired off boy-girl boy-girl. The evening, however, flowed seamlessly as the class president opened with a simple statement, “Good job. We did it.” - followed by talented choral groups ranging from high brow classical to street rap.

The most lackluster speech of the evening was the one meant to inspire. The adult speaker literally said, “I’m going to inspire you” and then began to read a list of former graduates (mainly from the ‘50’s and earlier) who had “made it big.” I recognized one name of an actress I adored during the ‘80’s and my husband identified a real estate mogul who he’d had less than pleasant business dealings with. The delivery was dry and as my own eyes glazed over, I couldn’t imagine my daughter or many other students being inspired by this recitation.

Looking out over the stadium, I was struck by the style and creativity of the students on the field. I witnessed mortarboards decorated with glitter and sequins glistening in the evening light. Students with oversized sunglasses; a boy with Mickey Mouse ears cleverly attached to his graduation cap. An array of finery peeking beneath red and black gowns: rubber sandals, glittering high heels, blown out blue jeans and pressed tuxedos. I watched the crowd: proud parents, raucous friends, and people holding elaborate signs, flowers from street vendors, cameras, bull horns and video recorders. In my musing, I became curious about who these people were, where they had been and where the future might carry them.

With curiosity the night came alive. Why did the seagulls soar over the crowd in the intricate patterns of swoop and dive? Who created the formation of night clouds and evening light that added a glow of perfection to the evening? Flashes of history went through my mind (good, bad and indifferent) as names were called to receive diplomas. Children I’d known since they were four years old strolled across the stage as the next generation of leaders. Later, I would pray for their safety and protection as they departed for Senior Spree, private parties and celebrations with family and friends. I wondered where time had gone, opportunities missed and adventures to come.

In my mind, the “inspirational speaker” had missed the mark. While a list of former accomplishments might or might not encourage others to move forward, curiosity could be a lasting companion. Curiosity inspires. It is my friend daily as I wonder about the world and myself. It motivates me to move forward and calls into question (without judgment) why I might stay inert. It encourages me to ask questions and seek new horizons. If I could leave a legacy for the generations to come, it would be this: Be Curious. Be grateful. Be you.

Ponder this: How are you inspired? What would be your legacy for those to follow?

photo by mark karras (used with permission... since he didn't get a model release and janey is featured :)

Labyrinth of Life

I’ve been away from this page too long, so today I invite you on a literal and metaphorical journey through the labyrinth of my life. This past month I have stepped through many doors, beginning with a weekend I spent with my grad school buddies. Together, we have been through thick and thin. We’ve discovered our mothers, hated them, loved them and become mothers ourselves. We have filled and emptied our nests. Buried our parents. We’ve become grandmothers, new moms and orphans. We’ve laughed hysterically, wept relentlessly and grown beyond our narrow boundaries. Our hearts have been like melting chocolate, swirling and fading in steaming milk. Comfort brings us home.

This month I have relived the birth of my son and his life of disarray. What can I even say? I’ve held him in my arms and he in mine, and so the journey goes… There is green, new life and growth. The touch of a hand. Swirling life around the edges. The roots of messiness piercing the whimsy of freedom, brilliance and light. I can feel it as I spin around the side. A new song, starry night, candles in the wind and paper umbrellas in a magical sky. (Phoenix remembered). Stripes of brilliance and color smash up against the gray of despair. Grief is always near. The cup of celebration teases me and then disappears as I round the corner to more light and celebration.

Petals of white greet me before being pierced by the messiness of more necessary growth. My hands hold it all as witness to the brokenness and darkness that is both parenthood and childhood. The path continues. I cannot stop now. Will I open or close my eyes to despair? I choose to feel the life that comes from releasing emotion. Light and dark blur together until I can’t tell which is which, and still life dances around the edges and angels offer me the cup of salvation as the center reveals it all – light, shadow & life. The embers glow and beckon me to continue the journey.

Golden light leads the way out. Fresh pink and spring green remind me that roots are essential and seeds grow into strong trees. (A sister. A friend.) Closed eyes offer prayer and meditation as they touch the heart within. (A workshop.) The shadows hold new life and there is nourishment in the messiness. Roots point the way to sweet nectar. (A prom & more.) Celebrate. Celebrate where you’ve been – the darkness – the brilliance – the new song of swirling life. Take in the colors and shapes that are this life. Hold them all. Celebrate birth and death. They all lie within your beautiful perfect heart. Amen.

labyrinth collage - designed & created by KSH 6.2011

90 Seconds to Release

“Despite our fear of certain feelings, it is feeling each of them all the way through that lands us in the vibrant ache that underrides our being alive. To reach this vibrant place is often healing.” -- Mark Nepo

Life has been crazy full lately with all sorts of brilliant and shiny adventures. It’s all good, as they say. My body, however, seemed to indicate otherwise. Even amidst healthy eating, plenty of sleep and regular exercise, last week my body declared a moratorium on health. I came down with an icky cold “out of nowhere.” So, I slowed down (sort of), paid attention (with soft focus) and listened (perhaps with one ear.) Actually, I kept going – only doing the “essential” things, of course – until my body said, “Excuse me. I’d like your FULL awareness NOW.”

So, Wednesday, I woke up and I cried. Buckets. I finally let go and quit trying to analyze things and figure them out. I pushed my favorite “should” to the background – (“You should know better.”) – and just let myself be. I slowed down and got quiet. I lit a candle, played the Cistercian monks on iTunes, raged in my journal for awhile, sobbed into my pillow, wailed a little more, then went to my scheduled spiritual direction appointment where I sat with a wise listener who let me cry some more. (I hope you’re not distracted by what might have brought me to this state, because that’s not really the point… but I do appreciate your concern.)

If you’re asking what is the point, well, I just needed to let my emotions be. While I have a general idea where some of the angst arises (e.g. my mother died on Mother’s Day seven years ago and I tend to mentally forget this), the point was my body was giving me all sorts of signals that I needed a little grieving time. Again? Yes. Still? Absolutely.

We are such amazing creations and my new favorite mantra is “The body doesn’t lie.” Who would have thought that buckets of tears, some lament music, a gentle hot yoga session and ultimately oral surgery would provide the prescription to returning to my normal-feeling self? Counterintuitive, huh? Nonetheless, my blockage – both nasal and otherwise – seem to be on the pathway to clearness after following just that plan.

Brain scientist, stroke survivor and author, Jill Bolte Taylor offers that it takes only 90 seconds for the chemical release and physiological response of an emotion to be triggered, surge through our body and be completely flushed out of our bloodstream. We have a choice as to whether we mentally hold onto the pain and allow it to further poison our system, or allow ourselves the cleansing benefit of fully experiencing the surge when it arises. Wednesday I allowed my grief to expand and flow through me. It’s definitely harder than it sounds, but one of the reasons I’m recording this memory is perhaps next time, I’ll mentally get to this knowledge sooner and my body won’t have to pull out all the stops to slow me down when an uncomfortable emotion arises again. I’ve come to learn there’s nothing linear about life. We don’t get to grieve or forgive or cry, be angry or laugh just once and then be done. Life is a cyclical process that turns back on itself again and again as onward we go!

Is there an intense feeling you’ve been avoiding? Will you allow yourself 90 seconds of pure emotion today? Go ahead, throw rocks into the ocean. Crank up the blues music. Dance with abandon until your toes tingle with joy. Think about it.

Start your own Drum Circle

The sound of drums calls through the crystal blue sky. Beckoning. Singing. Saying, “Come play with us. All are welcome here.” The message is clear. “Find a perch on the grassy knoll, soak up some sunshine and live your own rhythm. Welcome to the World Rhythm Festival. Welcome to life.”

Saturday was my first experience in a community drum circle, but not my first in finding my personal rhythm. If you’ve never participated in a drum circle, it’s quite an experience. From out of the silence, a lone drummer begins. Soon another joins in, percussion instruments follow and, if you’re lucky, a bass carries the heartbeat. It’s a magical experience as multifarious people of assorted talent levels come together to create music. Dancers step into the mix and uniquely sway to the emerging beats. All elements are essential to creating this life-engaging experience.

One dancer swayed on the outer perimeter of the circle and I wondered why he steered clear of the middle and whether he longed to be center stage. Later as we had a brief conversation, I realized his perfect rhythm was to be exactly where he was – nothing more or less. Many of us don’t listen that well. If everyone isn’t doing it (whatever “it” is), we draw back because it might not be acceptable. We choose to listen to everyone else’s rhythm and find ourselves out of sync, and thus missing out on our unique part of life's harmony.

My part in Saturday’s experience was to sit on the knoll and play my djembe. I didn’t need to be the one to start or stop the circle. My role this day was harmony, and in that I was perfectly content. I was grateful for those who brilliantly began each round of music and less appreciative of those who exerted an odd power to bring the circle to an unnatural close. In practicing our personal rhythms, it’s important to know when we must follow the beat of our own drum and when it feels best to play harmony. There’s magic in listening to the pulse and finding the simpatico places both within and without.

Take a moment and imagine leaning into your own grassy knoll and soaking up the sunshine of your personal rhythm. What instrument would you play? What role would be yours? Where would you dance in the circle? What beat will you choose to follow?

World Rhythm Festival 2011 © lucy
My djembe & my friend, Carole © lucy 2011

Whidbey Island Wisdom

The cormorant perches on a half-submerged buoy, both floating in the transparent morning light – not sunny, not quite gray with a touch of gentle mist in the air. Ocean angel opens her wings and balances like a scene from The Karate Kid. What does Madame Cormorant say to me? Balance, my dear. It’s time to regain your balance.

Swallows chase playfully past the bedroom window – moving at such speed they threaten to bounce off the crystal clear glass separating our worlds. Oh, precious swallows what say you? Play. Play. Play. It’s the essential beat of your heart. Wait no longer to play. It is the air you live and breathe.

Waves rhythmically lap against the sandy shore – licking the wet gray sand with their gentle tongue, kissing the earth while holding floating fowl. Love, they whisper to me. Open your heart like the cormorant. Play with abandon like the swallows. Kiss the world with sweet compassion.

I just had the incredible pleasure of spending two days on Whidbey Island, dreaming and scheming with wonderful friends. Above is the view and wisdom the Island offered to me. May your days be filled with earthly wonder!